


Inescapable Hell

by TeitoxAkashi



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Gore, Other, RIP Kawahira, Torture, idk what else to tag but just beware, it's not exactly a happy story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 20:47:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20552450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeitoxAkashi/pseuds/TeitoxAkashi
Summary: They thought that everything was Kawahira’s fault—that the Arcobaleno was cursed into small bodies and short lifespan. They thought that it was his doings, but what they didn’t know was that he was merely a mascot.





	Inescapable Hell

They thought that everything was Kawahira’s fault—that the Arcobaleno was cursed into small bodies and short lifespan. They thought that it was his doings, but what they didn’t know was that he was merely a mascot.

His soles tapped silently against the cement, moving forward without haste. The road he took wound around and around, long in the darkness with only glowing, crystal-like bluebeards illuminating the pathway. Distantly in the silent dimension, Kawahira could faintly hear soft hums, melody unknown, from the small fairies that floated around. They never approached him before—never tempted him with anything besides the first time—but he knew that these fairies are anything but harmless.

(Once, he saw them giggling at a tortured woman, bleeding through every orifice she has.

Once, he saw them dragging a rotting corpse into the darkness, away from the lit path.

Every time, he saw their eyes filled with killing intent staring at him.)

Perhaps it was because of his identity—or maybe his flames?—that they never approached him. Or perhaps it was the blood that stained his hand. But definitely, it was because of their owner.

The road he took did not have any crossroads or junctions that splits unlike what most would face. No, his only had one, and one that he took for ages and each time he stepped onto it, it changes. The destination remains the same, but the winds and distance of the journey were different every time. Sometimes it was straight without any turns; sometimes it brings him back and forth despite him moving forward; and sometimes it would take him just a few seconds to minutes to reach; and sometimes, it would take him days to months.

He could never stray from the path however annoying it was. Because he knew that once he did, he would be pushed out from this dimension, and by gods, who knows how long he would be able to step into this dimension again after that. (It wasn’t easy to find it, the entrance. It appears randomly and without warning, or when the owner wanted to see you.) And that would probably enrage the owner so Kawahira could only endure since he was powerless against the owner.

(What he didn’t know was, other than him, anyone who stray from the path will be swallowed, eaten until not even a single speckle of bone is left.)

The owner, speaking of which, was an eccentric person whose actual gender was unknown. They were the master of this parallel dimension—yes it was a parallel dimension; parallel to all parallels but nothing outside could ever influence it, not even time. They built this monster of a place since before Kawahira had ever existed. (Hah. And to think that Kawahira and Sepira’s kin claimed that they were the first actual Earthlings that existed. What a joke.)

The owner had names, so many that even they themselves couldn’t remember all, but they went by a consistent title; Death.

Although they were called Death by most, they weren’t exactly Death. No, they were no god despite being on the same level—if not higher—with one. They were no demon as well. Whatever they were, Kawahira didn’t know. It was simply easier to just call them Death. (At least until Kawahira knew what to call them.) What they do though, he knew. Out of the infinite number of parallel worlds, sometimes, they would pull one human out, one at a time, and they would let them walk the road.

As said, the road was an inconsistent thing that varies each time it was taken. Only Kawahira’s road was without junctions, but the humans that was dragged into this dimension on the other hand would have roads that either has so many splits that it seemed never ending or that it goes around in circle. No one would ever know what kind of shape it took—not even the owner themselves, Kawahira presumed.

And on the road, they were not under the protection of the owner. They would be bothered by the trickster fairies or they would attempt to run away into the darkness and away from the path. Whatever happened to them, well, who knows?

(Kawahira had not yet seen—or heard—that anyone managed to survive.)

Which was probably why they were commonly called as Death even though they weren’t Death. (They were far worse than Death itself.) No one ever made it out alive and because they were pulled out of their original dimension by the owner, the humans were as good as dead in the real worlds. (And worst, there was never really a valid reason to why they were chosen. Everything was on whim. _Nothing was ever certain in this realm_.)

He didn’t know how long he had been walking, especially with him being so lost in thought, when he finally arrived at the door that miraculously appeared in front of him—or, he should say that it _found_ him instead. The door was imposingly huge as always, dark oak heavy yet steady on thin air, hovering above ground. The door itself was yet another unknown factor; as sentient as the road and as manipulative as time.

He stared at it, pausing himself before he opened on the door. He wondered what kind of scene he would be greeted with this time.

.

Kawahira heard the laughter from multiple voices, indescribable and cold. He didn’t know where he was and how he had gotten there, but there he was, standing in the darkness armed with nothing but his flames to protect himself in the world of unknowns. One second he was talking to Sepira about the stones—about their dying comrades—and the next, he was nowhere.

Looking at his feet, tensed, he was almost far too glad to see a normal-looking cemented road. Beyond the road, perpendicular to it was darkness beyond darkness. There were glowing bluebeards and small little floating lights, being the only source of light. Anything else were pitch black, so black.

Fear was crawling under his skins and into his heart, planting seeds of paranoia. He was afraid, something he had not felt in centuries. He didn’t know what he was afraid of; there was nothing else in sight but he was definitely afraid of this seemingly harmless space. Because it definitely wasn’t, not even the slightest bit.

His fist clenched tightly and cold sweat perspired from his forehead as he looked around him, ears ringing. He could still hear the laughter, along with the mocking giggles and sigh. He couldn’t tell where was the source of noise as it seemed to be coming from every direction.

“Who are you?” The incomprehensible noise had gotten louder—a wrong question. “Where am I?”

Giggles.

“_Come_.” Temptations, from everywhere but certainly, away from the path. “_Come here,_” It said. “_We’ll take good care of you._”

Shivers ran down Kawahira’s spine. He would do anything but _that_.

Looking away from the nauseating darkness, he stared at the ground—white still. He followed the trail, staring as it led to god knows where, seemingly without an end. He supposed, he had no other choice but to walk down the road, does he?

Continuously, he walked until a door appeared—oak with a sigil he had never seen before. It couldn’t be described with words, but it brought more fear to Kawahira than before he had seen it. The door reeked of danger, of blood and so much more unimaginable horror. Yet, when it appeared, the laughter stopped. The noises ceased and silence blanketed around him.

He swallowed, nails digging into his palm.

He pushed open the door.

.

Death looked unlike what common people imagined—bony skeleton with a scythe or a horrific monster with miasma. No, Death was humanoid, definitely within human’s imagination, yet they were definitely not human. Kawahira had never seen his true form and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

He didn’t know how Death lived, but whenever Kawahira was there, Death seemed to be passing their time like a normal human. (If you consider testing him until he was shaking and torturing humans normal, that is.)

Death, in loose black robes with blue linings that barely covered their pale skin, was lying on a platform—Japanese style platform. A table was in front of them and on top of it was a plate of cookies and two cups of hot piping tea, one placed in front of Death and another opposite.

Death smiled, looking boyish instead of how they were when they took form of a woman. They—_he_, for today, Kawahira supposed with slight relief—gestured him to seat and Kawahira did, kneeling with his back straight on the soft pillow.

“How was your journey here?”

Kawahira picked up the cup and blew, hot mist condensing on his glasses. “Long.” He curtly answered—neither polite nor impolite, just simply dull.

Death chuckled, sighing as he did. “I supposed it was being mischievous today.” By ‘it’, he meant the sentient road. How Death could tell, Kawahira didn’t know but he assumed so because that the road and door was a part of Death—uncontrolled by the owner yet essentially a part of him. Well, to be accurate, everything in this domain was a part of him.

So if Death were to say that ‘it’ was being mischievous, he could partly mean that he himself was feeling so too.

Kawahira hummed.

Death shook his head, not the slightest bit offended at how cold Kawahira was. He simply—and lazily—sat up, loosely crossed his legs and rubbed his fingertip along the rim of his own cup. “I believe that the solution has been found, has it not?” He smiled, leaning his head against his fist as his elbow propped on his legs.

Kawahira tensed slightly before he forcefully relaxed his muscles.

“Yes, but who knows how long it could last.”

“Hm, true.” Death picked up a cookie and ate it. “Nothing last forever.” He said, voice cold and void of the casual warm he usually has. It sounded like resentment, yet it sounded like he was saying a fact as well.

“But I reckon that this time, it will.” He licked his lips. “The new sky is rather interesting.”

Kawahira blinked, surprised. He breathed out as he pushed his glass up, shielding his eyes for a second. “… You’ve met him?”

Death nodded, highly amused. “Oh met him I did. The young cub accidentally stumbled upon an entrance and found his way here. Quite easily, I would say.” He leaned back, legs spreading apart further. “He was _afraid_—he did saw the fairies eating a body on the way here after all—but he did not so much as cower in front of me like most would. How strange.”

Kawahira’s grip on the cup tightened and it did not go unnoticed by Death. Death laughed. “My, my, Kawahira. You’re _infatuated_.” He grinned ferally, lips stretched too wide, smile too sharp. “You, an Earthling who held no man nor woman before, is _infatuated_ with a boy too young your age. How hilarious.”

“I am _not_ infatuated with him.” Kawahira gritted out.

Death paused, smile still too wide but now mocking. “Huh, wrong word it seemed. Hmm,” He contemplated. “Ahh, no no no, not infatuated definitely. My apologies. You’re merely moved by the boy who saved the last Arcobaleno—you have gone soft for the boy who you took now saw as your child.”

Kawahira stopped breathing all together. “Am I right?” He did not respond. He dared not to. Not with the heavy pressure that suppressed him—_crushing_ him.

He was sweating, the back of his shirt sticking onto his skin. His heart was palpating fast, dread crashing through him. Death was staring at him, no—_through _him. Death could see _everything_. Kawahira was stripped bare, naked in front of Death.

_He saw everything_.

Minutes that felt like hours passed before Death finally—_finally—_pulled back and retracted the pressure. His narrowed slit eyes dilated back to normal as he chuckled, like he had just told a joke. “Rest assure,” He took a sip of the never cooling tea. “I won’t touch that child. Not now, not ever.”

That was a promise.

Death was nothing but honest with his promises.

Kawahira unconsciously let out a breath of relief, albeit shaky. “The child _is_ protected after all. His soul is so deeply rooted into the parallel worlds—every single one of it—that pulling him away for more than a minute would break the parallels apart.”

“You, on the other hand,” Goosebumps appeared on Kawahira’s skin. “Is _too_ detached from the parallel worlds, more so since the child broke the curse.” Death pointed at him, eyes just as piercing as before. “Your link to the world outside is but a thin line now, Kawahira. Sooner or later, it is going to break.”

Kawahira lowered his hands, placing it on the table while holding onto the cup for his dear life. “And when it breaks, what are you going to do?”

“… I don’t know.”

Death shook his head. “You do. You _know_. You just don’t want to acknowledge it.” He sighed, brushing his long hair that strayed to his eyes back. “When it breaks, you would die. Without the link, you would drift, never to be reincarnated unlike your brothers and sisters. And soon, once the law of the universe decided that you’re nothing but trash that no longer works, it will dispose you and scatter your soul.

“Then, you would cease to exist.” He sounded forlorn, which begs the question why. Because to Kawahira, ever since the first day he met Death, Death had always seemed like he was waiting for the day Kawahira disappear to come. Patiently anticipating.

Why then, did Death sounded like he was troubled by that?

Of course, Kawahira couldn’t hide his confusion from Death. It earned him a glare and the return of pressure cutting through his flesh. It earned him a growl and rage. “Have you forgotten what you had _promised_ me, Kawahira.”

Promised.

What was it other than _that_?

.

“Don’t be scared, boy. Come here and take a seat.” The first time he met Death, they had taken the form of a man as well, donned in western clothes topped with a hat that made him looked like the mad hatter from Alice in the Wonderland. His smile, however, looked nothing of a madman’s. Kawahira could sense the oppression from the unworldly being, could sense the controlled power so to not overwhelm Kawahira. Or to test him?

Standing by the spot where the door had disappeared from, he stared. He took in the garden, silent and without a single breeze and he felt so cornered that he was having hard time breathing.

Don’t be scared, he says. What a joke, knowing full well that Kawahira was far too afraid for someone who was in the prime of his age, full with vitality and power and flames far too saturated. (His flames burned under his skin, trashing around and begging him to leave, to _escape _from this hellscape of a heaven.

It was neither hell nor heaven. It was far worst.)

What a joke, when a human—gender no longer perceivable—was tied up at the background, bare naked with no skin left unmarred. The human, half dead and insane, barely breathing through their punctured lungs and broken nose and slit mouth, moaned and groaned. Blood pooled under them along with a torn arm, pulled out instead of chopped. Their eyes, one filled with maggots and one without any eyelid. An ear gone, seemingly eaten. They were still alive despite the blood lost. How, Kawahira didn’t know.

But what he knew was the human had been there for a long, _long_ time.

Still, Kawahira had to abide to the strange man’s words. He was, after all, at his mercy. (He wasn’t stupid enough to think that he could ever defeat the man. Especially seeing the half-dead human.) He took heavy, hesitant steps towards the round, silver table filled with snacks and sat down opposite to Death. The coffee cup in front of him immediately filled up by itself, liquid appearing out of nowhere. It wasn’t a trick nor illusion, Kawahira registered.

Pure magic?

Kawahira couldn’t figure it out.

“Now, what’s your name?”

Kawahira’s fist clenched, sweat on his skin. He felt so weak, so _naked_ in front of the creature. “Kawahira.” He choked out.

Death hummed, stirring his own cup of coffee. “Interesting.” He purred, eyes narrowing into slits like a cat’s eyes. “A human too pure that goes against time while trying to preserve what was left of your kind.” Kawahira’s hair stood up. “How many of you left, now? Not more than ten, I presume? Tsk tsk,”

Death’s grin scared Kawahira.

“Poor you all.”

Gritting his teeth and tasting blood, Kawahira asked. “What do you want?”

“Hmm, I wonder what.” Death drawled, as though he was seriously wondering like he didn’t already knew. Purposely, he let his restrain go just for the slightest bit. And that slightest bit came crashing down on Kawahira like Mount. Fuji had collapsed on him. Kawahira wheezed, body bent at the sudden pressure. His knuckles were white and his nail had broken through the skin of his palm, tainting it red. His ears were ringing, and bright spots filled his sight, turning yellow as they appeared.

He was pretty sure he was going to faint then.

But he didn’t.

He heard an amused chuckle and the pressure lifted, like it was never there. He let out a gasp, desperately trying to gather oxygen into his lungs. It hurt, he swallowed, eyes closed tight.

The first test was over.

Kawahira dreaded a second one.

Death’s fingers tapped rhythmically against the table, humming a small melody under his breath as he waited for Kawahira to recover and Kawahira didn’t want to admit, but that helped him calm down. It grounded him despite it bringing him fear.

How ironic.

“A promise. From you. In return, I will help you deal with the trouble you have until time’s up.”

Kawahira shuddered, nothing but a small, weak and insignificant animal. He paled at the sight of Death’s teeth through his smile.

“I want _you_.”

The human burst into nothing.

.

What context Death meant that time was not asked because Kawahira feared for the answer. (He _knew_. He _knew_ from all the tests he had undergone every time he met Death. He _knew_ from the gleeful look Death had, the glints of pleasure at his suffering. He _knew_.)

And Kawahira knew it was time, now, Death redeem his payment.

He was going to _die_. He was going to be tortured like the human who ended up dying without any part intact in Death’s hands—the one he saw the first time they met. (Death’s method made the fairies’ work look so tame.) And he was going to die the same way they did.

Death raised an eyebrow and scoffed, able to tell what Kawahira was thinking. “_Please_, I’m not going to kill you.” Kawahira blinked and paled at the following sentence.

“I’m going to keep you forever.” Death smirked. “I’m going to doll you up, pamper you and spoil you so much that you can’t ever leave me.” _So much that he would never be able to survive without Death_.

“And then I’m going to break you apart you.” He sighed yearningly at the thought of a screaming Kawahira, tied up and bloodied, perhaps with limbs severed and bones broken, mutilated. He would love the scream, just the thought of it dried his throat. Kawahira would look so _beautiful_.

Death leaned closer, cupping Kawahira’s cold cheek in his palm as he stared into his eyes—how gorgeous, he _wanted to pluck it out_. “I won’t kill you and don’t worry,” He cooed. “I’ll still pamper you.” He would sew him back up, tenderly put him back into place, heal him, _love him_.

And he would do it all over again.

Kawahira incredulously let out a laugh, filled with so much terror that delighted Death. “W-why?” He couldn’t stop the stammer, couldn’t stop his body from shaking.

Death’s grin scared him just as much as the first time he saw it.

“Because it’s fun.”

.

Tsuna had disappeared for a minute and reappeared out of thin air, sweating profusely and so, _so_ pale. It took his guardian a long time holding onto him, flames and physical touches, voices gentle and concerned, that he finally calmed down. But even then, he refused to talk about what had happened. Or to be exact, he _couldn’t_ talk about it.

The memory he had was not a minute long, but two days. He saw the sinister smiles of fairies that ate through a human’s body. He walked down a narrow path so small that he had almost fell into the darkness that threatened to swallow him whole multiple times.

And he met a creature so scary that he was reduced to nothing in seconds despite his best effort to keep calm.

The creature did nothing but asked him questions, maintaining their distance. The creature _tested_ him, more than once and he felt like he was actually dying.

The creature let him go in the end, but not without parting words that scarred him.

“_Don’t break the link or not even the law of the universe will be able to save you._”

It wasn’t an advice that people usually say. It was a _threat_.

Tsuna could only keep mum about it with thorns in his throat.

He, however, uttered only one thing. “Kawahira is gone.”

And they could do nothing about it.

**Author's Note:**

> > Not all death is caused by Death. 
> 
> > [Cut scene] It made Kawahira wonder why only he managed to get out intact every time. Perhaps they were merely bidding time? (He wondered when would be his time; what would happen to him. Would he be tortured and skewered? Or would he die a simply death? The answer would probably be no.)  
> Kawahira’s relieved when Death was a he because when Death was crueller and scarier when they were a she.
> 
> >‘A human too pure’ said by Death meant Kawahira’s blood and flames, since he was one of the True Earthlings.
> 
> > Death warned Tsuna not to break the link he has with the parallel worlds because once he did, Death would snatch him away.
> 
> > I didn't know where to fit this in but the Arcobaleno's curse was Death's idea. He made the stones into pacifier once Sepira was convinced by Kawahira and purposely set the curse the way it is. It wasn't until the first generation of Arcobaleno died that Kawahira knew what the curse does other than shrinking their bodies. 
> 
> > Every time Kawahira stumble upon an entrance, he cannot not go in or else the next time he was forcefully pulled in, he'd suffer more than he usually would. (Death tested him every single time.)
> 
> > Not mentioned, but Kawahira had seen Death personally deal with his new 'toy', aka humans, more than once so he knew how cruel Death could be. <s>Death was, in a way, kinder to him.</s>
> 
> This plunny unexpectedly popped out of nowhere. The story didn't exactly went the way I thought it would. I wanted to make Death a very cold being and all and blah blah but then,,,,, I suddenly wanted Death to torture Kawahira so,,,,
> 
> Maybe I'll continue the story, but with a more pleasant setting? Idk.
> 
> Please inform me if there should be any additional warning tags added! Thanks! 
> 
> [I apologize for any grammar, spelling, etc. etc. mistakes]


End file.
